


The Pickup Artist

by TriaKane



Series: Designated Hitter [14]
Category: Leverage
Genre: Eliot's sexy and he knows it!, F/M, Flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-31
Updated: 2017-12-31
Packaged: 2019-02-24 09:51:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13211253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TriaKane/pseuds/TriaKane
Summary: Eliot asks a question and gets a surprise visitor as an answer.





	The Pickup Artist

**Author's Note:**

> Can't remember how this idea came about but it was fueled by two good friends and lots of laughs. 
> 
> Dedicated to Lee for supplying a couple of lines and being a great cheerleader!
> 
> Some of this was betaed. Know anybody who wants the job? Email me at tria.kane11 at gmail.com

“What’d’ya think ‘bout movin’ to Portland?” Eliot asked.

His question surprised me. Ever since the team’s unexpected move to Portland nearly three months ago, we’d spent nearly as much time travelling to see each other as we did together. With a desire to be closer, I had already started looking for places in San Francisco. I hadn’t lived there in over 40 years and thought it would be a good compromise. His question opened up new possibilities.

“Do you want to live together or just in the same city?” I asked, needing that clarity.

“You wanna live together?” he asked, his voice giving no hint of what he was feeling. Even his thoughts were shaded.

“I’d like to,” I told him, going out on the limb first. “If you want to.”

“Yeah,” he said, releasing a breath I hadn’t realized he’d been holding. “Yeah, I’d like to live ya.”

Across 3000 miles, I could hear the smile in his voice and the happiness in his thoughts.

I told Eliot I would contact a real estate agent the next day and come to Portland as soon as I could. Three days later, as a surprise, I arrived on the early flight and had already seen a couple of places. 

Since I was looking exclusively at places in the Pearl District, I had walked from the last condo I’d viewed, trying to get a feel for the neighborhood on foot. Now, standing across the street from the Bridgeport Brewpub, I could only hope Eliot would be there. I decided to drop in and take the chance. 

The brewpub was bustling when I walked in. Standing by the door, I spotted Eliot talking to a customer and waited. When he was finished, as if he sensed me, he looked up and smiled. 

Crooking his finger, Eliot beckoned me over and stepped behind the bar. 

After I sat on a stool across from him, he leaned in close and said, “I just made you come with one finger, imagine what I could do with my whole hand.”

So unlike his usual low-key manner, I was thrown off. He’d spoken loud enough that a nearby waitress gasped softly. 

“I have a boyfriend,” I chided gently.

“Well, let’s talk ‘bout how we can get ya outta that.”

I couldn’t help but laugh. 

“So,” I said, looking him up and down, “what’s good here?”

“Besides me?” He winked. “Depends. Do you like it soft?” He gestured towards the wine bottles. “Or hard?” Gesturing towards the liquor bottles.

“Depends on the situation,” I said, playing along. 

“Don’t tell me you’re an appletini girl,” he scoffed.

“No.” I shook my head. “I like my vodka like I like my men, straight and goes down easy.”

“Good to know.” He nodded approvingly. “Do ya like whiskey?”

“Like my men, neat but with a bite.”

“Even better,” he said with a smirk.

Turning, Eliot picked up a bottle of Bushmills 21 year old whiskey, one of my favorites. “Irish?”

“Yes,” I said as he poured me a double. “I have some Irish in me.”

“Want some more?” he offered as he set the glass down on a napkin.

I shook my head at his antics. 

When I reached for the glass, I saw writing on the napkin. _Smile if you want to have sex._

I couldn’t help but smile at his playfulness.

Taking a sip, I held the whiskey in my mouth, savoring the flavor. The pecan and date flavors stood out, and after I swallowed, the finish was all syrupy pipe tobacco and mint. 

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from Eliot, imagining the way he tasted as compared to the whiskey. My curiosity was peaked when he picked up a pad of paper and a pen and started writing.

“What’s that?” I asked.

“My to-do list,” he answered, the corner of his mouth twitched as he held back a grin.

“Am I on it?”

“Top of the list,” he said, tearing off the paper and shoving it in his back pocket.

I laughed softly and took another sip of my drink. Looking around, I realized some of the wait staff had been eavesdropping. I glanced at Eliot and I knew he realized it too. I wondered if perhaps that was partly fueling his flirting. 

I leaned forward conspiratorially and he followed suit. 

“I think I should tell you what other people are saying behind your back.”

He leaned closer. 

“Nice ass!”

He laughed out loud and smiled infectiously, his eyes sparkling with mirth.

“Now I know why it’s so gray outside,” I told him.

“Why?” 

“All the blue is in your eyes.”

He smiled again and winked, saying, “If I had a nickel for every time I saw a woman as sexy as you, I’d have five cents.”

“Flatterer.” I took another sip. “If being wicked was a crime, you’d be guilty as hell.”

“Yes, ma’am.” Grabbing a nearby menu, he held it up. “You hungry?”

“No,” I said. _At least not for food,_ I thought to myself.

“Maybe later?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

“Sure, why?” I asked, genuinely curious.

“Pizza is my second favorite thing to eat in bed,” he answered and wiggled his eyebrows.

I laughed out loud. 

“You know, they call me the cat whisperer,” he said, gesturing to the waiters standing nearby.

“Oh?” I wondered where he was going with this.

“Yeah,” he said, stroking his chin. “I know just what your pussy wants.”

I laughed and asked, “Is your mouth good for anything else besides talking?”

He flicked his tongue up and down suggestively, and then said, “Is yours?”

“Honey,” I said, making sure the voyeurs could hear, “I could suck you so hard, a vacuum cleaner would be jealous.”

He chuckled and surreptitiously slid his hand against his groin, and I realized the flirting was turning him on as much as it was me.

Holding out his index and middle finger, he asked, “Know why you should masturbate with these two fingers?”

“No.” I shook my head.

“Because they’re mine, darlin’.”

I clenched my legs together, imagining it. 

“Know what would look good on you?” I asked.

“What?”

“Me.”

He nodded in agreement. 

“So, what time do you get off?” I asked.

“A few minutes after you do,” he said before taking my empty glass. “Sorry to say, but happy hour’s over here. But it’s just getting started at my place.”

Shaking my head, I took some cash from my purse and set it on the bar. “I’m new in town and need some directions.”

“Sure, where ya goin’?” he asked, seriously.

“Your place.”

“Well,” he said, “as a matter of fact, I live upstairs.” He pointed up.

“Well then, let’s cut out all this bullshit and go fuck!” I said blatantly.

I heard a waiter drop a tray, but my eyes were on Eliot. I watched him come around the bar and take me by the hand, leading me towards the Employees Only door.

The doors were barely closed when he pushed me up against the wall. With one hand full of breast, his thumb flicking the hardening nipple, and one hand full of ass, squeezing firmly, I felt his erection nestled up snug against me, rocking gently.

“I could fuck you right here,” he said hotly against my neck.

As much as I would’ve liked that right about then, I realized he was unaware that we had an audience. 

“Only if you want Hardison to watch,” I told him, opening my eyes and grinning at the hacker peering at us from over his laptop.

Eliot dropped his hands as if burned and looked over his shoulder at the young man grinning stupidly at him.

“Dammit Hardison!” Eliot snapped indignantly. 

“What?” Hardison said, all fake offended. “I was here first!”

Dropping from the rafters on one of her rigs, Parker looked between Hardison’s grin and Eliot’s scowl before she asked, “Can we do that? Is that something we can do?” 

“No, Parker!” Eliot growled.

Eliot grabbed my hand and pulled me back through the door, but not before I heard Hardison’s last comment.

“Boy got a hang up or something.”

I wanted to laugh, but the need and frustration coursing through Eliot was nearly overwhelming. Watching him run his hand through his hair, I didn’t need to be a mind reader to know what he was thinking.

Taking control, I lead him to the men’s room and pulled him inside. Thankfully it was empty, but I locked the door to prevent any further interruptions. I knew he wasn’t necessarily adverse to someone watching, but the idea of it being Hardison or Parker would be too much for him.

He started to object, but I put a finger against his lips.

“Remember,” I said, licking my lips, “this is something my mouth is good at.”

I dropped to my knees and made quick work of opening his pants. Half hard, I jerked him with a firm grip, the way I knew he used on himself. Closing my lips around the head, I sucked vigorously while flicking my tongue against the underside.

“Oh, God!” He muttered as his eyes closed and his hands automatically dropped to my head, fisting in my hair. 

Long, teasing rounds of oral sex were a wonderful thing, but the bathroom of a brewpub where he worked didn’t exactly call for that. I wanted to get him off and get us out of there. Besides, I had needs as well, and I definitely didn’t want to get off there.

Taking him deep, I didn’t ease up, alternating stroking and sucking, feeling his thoughts echo through me.

I hummed experimentally around him and felt his legs tremble. One thing I could count on with surety, after the many times I’ve sucked him off, if I hummed while he was in my mouth, it would push him towards completion faster than anything else. 

As if on cue, I knew he was about to come; his breath hitched and his hands convulsed in my hair. I stopped humming and started swallowing.

“Fuu uh uh oh!” It was all he was capable of. 

Releasing his cock, I stood up and stepped to the sink, washing my hands and wiping my mouth. I knew he was watching my reflection in the mirror as he caught his breath and straightened his clothes.

Turning to face him, he had regained his composure and the only clue he had just blown his wad was his relaxed stance and easy smile.

“What song?” he asked.

I softly sang, “ _My bologna has a first name..._ ”

“Son of a bitch!” he said, shaking his head. “I’ll never be able to eat bologna again.”

“I do it all the time,” I replied, laughing as I opened the men’s room door.

He chuckled as he followed me out, his hand falling to the small of my back.

Three waiters and a cook stopped to watch us walk to the front door. They had very intently watched our earlier interactions and I wanted to give them a little more.

I stopped and turned before opening the inner door.

“That was a 68,” I told him, loud enough so they could hear. “Now you owe me one.”

Picking up my cue, Eliot turned to look at the nearest waiter, smiled his best ‘shit eatin’ grin’ and said, “My pleasure.”

On the sidewalk, we laughed as we walked away.

**Author's Note:**

> The naughty tongue flick he does... in my head I see Duncan MacLeod from Highlander when he's under the influence of the Dark Quickening. If you know the show, you know the scene. Still makes me giggle like a school girl! :)


End file.
